every darkened well

Monday, May 28, 2012

It's not Saturday, but at least I'm posting at all, so be glad. :) But anyway, happy Memorial Day to you all out there, and I hope you had a good one. 

Just a little side note, though: I remembered that this Friday, the day I was going to have a monthly guest post, is actually June 1st, but that guest post will be on June anyway. 

On to the poetry...I wrote this poem from an exercise out of a wonderful poetry book, and the first two lines are those of an Edna St. Vincent Millay poem. I had never read the poem, and it was actually about the turning of the seasons, but this is what happened with mine, called "Every Darkened Well".


I cannot but remember
When the year grows old
It seems so long ago
And I cannot but unfold

The lovely little poems, which
When written, called with joy
To me to come and be their queen
And so I was employed

For so long as to my wish
When the poems softly fell
From every ink-stained fingertip
Down to every darkened well

And now my eyes are losing
The spark they once possessed
And my singing speech becomes
One of absentmindedness

But tell me, please, what do you see
When you look upon me so?
Do you see the wondrous woman
Or someone you don’t know?

Oh, say the former, dear, and write me in
As nothing but myself
Lest I begin to lose my ways
And you shall lose yourself

For I cannot but remember
When the year grows old
The little details of my life
And the poems I once told

The ones about my being queen
The ones that softly fell
From every ink-stained fingertip
Down to every darkened well

2 comments:

JFierce said...

Your a clever and practical poet.... Kind of stumbled on your page....Weird, The words persimmon touche' just literally came out of my mouth and Its not something that normally would. So I googled it, and it brought me to your last blog spot which brought me here. Sorry.... Randomness but just thought I would share :)

Scarlett said...
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